Air to breathe
Needed on some days
When overwhelming thoughts
Occur
And reoccur
Just a bit of wind
In the lungs
Can be the song needed
To be sung
Air to Breathe
Reply
Tag Archives: New York Times
Stages
Some days
The hardest part
Is just showing up
Rolling out of bed
And starting
Forging ahead
When the eyes want to fall back
To sleep
The body asks for rests
Preparations must be made
Instead
Of laying
In bed
Tired and No Eraser
No eraser needed
No backspace allowed
Forward progression
Is all that will be permitted
No accident acquited
While in the chair I sit
Working words into phrases
Of decent proposal
Halfway hope
Left over
Day to Be
The coming days to be
Letting go of what was familiar to
You and me
A city
A life
For bigger and better
Discoveries and journeys
Letting go
While others hold so tight
That they squeeze the life
Out of the joy
Thy love
And love left
It will be
Back and Forth
Leaving the city
Back and forth
Working for our dream
Letting go of what is in between
The city grew us up
In much-needed ways
Now we feel that
We must get away
Steep rent and subtle
Increase in food
All that is need for it
To come undone
What if we held on
But held back
From our dreams
Giving up for the city things
The One Spot
The one spot
A table in reservation
Not one close to the door
Where the wind blows
One on the other side
Where it’s warm all day
That’s the spot coveted
In New York City
Away from the door
On a cold winters day
Walk into the cafe
And hope
For a nice spot
Be Clear
Be clear without hesitation
Wait for nothing
Understated
How to move
In these times
Requires
Not aversions
But straight lines
A Good Day
Do you think it will be a good one
The man leans in
To his friend
Hoping for a positive message back
That will be sent
On a cold day in New York City
What makes a good day
What makes a bad day
On the streets of Manhattan
Looking up at the tall buildings
While the people keep passing
I think it will be a good one
With sunshine and charity
Let’s hope for a good one
Today
A Head Start
I didn’t want to get going
It was a humid morning in house
Frigid out
The clatter of opening stores
With freight trucks whipping by
The cold has a different feel before
The sun
It settles a little deeper
As the day opens up
The world does as well
I have seen in my own eyes
These early New York City mornings
When all feels off
Yet it is perfectly right
Head Down
Hopes and dreams
Pretty distant things
As in one moment
Creeps away
With speedy wings
How should I proceed
When the headlines
Read
All is headed down
Across the world
A giant frown
I guess I will just
Keep a brisk pace
And keep my own head down
A Cup of Songwriting 